You Belong With Me
by Miranda Tam
Summary: My first songfic. It's the Cahill family reunion, and Reagan has a song that she wants to sing. Reagan/Dan.Oneshot.


"Welcome, one and all, to the Cahill Family Reunion!"

It had been five years since Amy and Dan Cahill had won the clue hunt. Everybody except the Kabras and the Cahills had dropped out, either being too far behind, seriously injured, or dead. The hunt had ended with Amy and Ian spontaneously making out in front of the last clue. Reagan didn't mind them. She actually thought that they were cute together. What she did mind, however, was Dan and Natalie. They had started going out three months ago, and every time Reagan saw them together, Natalie was blabbing on about clothes, and Dan was looking uncomfortable. She wished that it was her instead of Natalie the Snob going out with him.

"And to celebrate everybody being in the same room and not assassinating each other, we're going to have a sing off!"

Oh, joy. As long as she didn't have to sing, Reagan was okay.

"And our first singer will be… Natalie Kabra! Come on up, pick a song, any song!"

Reagan rolled her eyes as Natalie sang some sappy love song off-key. It was obvious that her own nails held more attention than the song, or Dan.

When the song ended to a scattered applause, the announcer spoke up again. "Our next singer will be… Reagan Holt!" oh, no. She walked up the stage to scattered laughter. The Holts were still widely ridiculed. As she scanned the list of songs, she knew exactly what song to sing.

_You're on the phone with your girlfriend, She's upset__  
__She's going off about something that you said__  
__She doesn't get your humor like I do_

Natalie was a volcano. Every time Dan tried to make a little joke, she would explode, about how he was 'dissing her' and 'bringing disgrace to the family name.'__

_I'm in the room, its a typical Tuesday night__  
__I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like__  
__And she'll never know your story like I do_

Natalie hated any music from after 1950. She didn't understand that people like Dan and Reagan actually _liked_ it.__

_But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts__  
__She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers_

Natalie always wore the best designer clothes. She always looked preppy and fresh. Reagan looked clunky. Natalie was popular with all of the other girls. Reagan was like a cast-off piece of dirty underwear.

___Dreaming bout the day when you wake up and find__  
__That what you're lookin for has been here the whole time___

_If you could see that I'm the one who understands you__  
__Been here all along so why can't you see?__  
__You belong with me__  
__You belong with me._

Dan and Reagan belonged together. They liked the same music, ninjas, and martial arts. __

_Walkin the streets with you in your worn out jeans__  
__I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be__  
__Laughing on the park bench thinkin to myself__  
__Hey isn't this easy?_

Reagan had once had a normal conversation with Dan, about ninjas and video games. She was so excited to meet someone who actually understood her and her obsession, she had completely forgotten about her major crush. When she had realized what she was doing, she noticed that it felt so… _right_.__

_And you've got a smile that could light up this whole town__  
__I haven't seen it in awhile, since she brought you down__  
__You say you're fine I know you better than that__  
__Hey, Whatcha doing with a girl like that?__  
_

What _was_ Dan doing with her? Natalie insulted his hair, or his outfit, or his personality at least twice daily. Only during their conversation had he slowly begun to smile again.

___She wears high heels, I wear sneakers__  
__She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers__  
__Dreaming bout the day when you wake up and find__  
__That what you're looking for has been here the whole time_

Natalie always wore Prada shoes. Reagan wasn't even sure what brand her sneakers were. Dan didn't care, either, but Natalie kept pressuring him into wearing expensive clothing that he could barely afford, despite having won the hunt.

__

_If you could see that I'm the one who understands you__  
__Been here all along so why can't you see?__  
__You belong with me___

_Standin by, waiting at your back door__  
__All this time how could you not know that?__  
__You belong with me__  
__You belong with me.__  
_

Now, instead of staring out at the crowd, she directed her gaze directly at Dan, making sure that there was no mistake about who she was singing about.

___Oh I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night__  
__I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're about to cry__  
__I know your favorite songs and you tell me about your dreams,_

_think I know where you belong. think I know it's with me.__  
_

Two weeks after he first started dating Natalie, Dan had accidentally insulted her so-called 'fashion sense,' and she gave him a talking-to. He had been so upset that he had gotten into his car and driven around blindly, ending up at Reagan's apartment. She had come out to see what was wrong, and she had managed to coax a now-rare laugh out of him.

___Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you?__  
__Been here all along so why can't you see?__  
__You belong with me___

_Standing by or waiting at your back door__  
__All this time how could you not know that__  
__You belong with me__  
__You belong with me___

_Have you ever thought just maybe__  
__You belong with me__  
__You belong with m._

Ending the song, she stepped off the stage and walked over to Dan's front-row seat. "Why are you with her?" she asked without preamble.

"I… honestly don't know anymore," he admitted quietly.

Reagan smiled. "Well then, there's nothing to stop me from doing _this._" Quickly, fast as lightning, she leaned over and kissed him.

He smiled. "Okay." This time, he leaned in.

They were oblivious to everything, including a furious Natalie stomping around and demanding why her boyfriend was kissing a Dolt. Reagan didn't know or care.

This felt like heaven.


End file.
